


Howl

by hatressoflore



Series: Companions of the Dark [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1790872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatressoflore/pseuds/hatressoflore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dark companion piece - what if the bad wold howled into the moonlight?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Howl

She wishes she could trace the time that her fingernails, now long and ragged, could prove themselves as useful as claws, and, that the meat she smelt, firing up her nostrils and setting her mind on hectic fire like gasoline, were more than a product of her imagination.

She howled.

She screeched.

Her voice sounded too thinly stretched to convey the majesty she wanted, any power she had fading into nothing but a tender awkwardness in her solitary confinement, her legs going numb from walking around in endless circles, her fried,. all an illusion, or so she gathered brain numbing out from never death..

Man did this. Woman too. 

Life, that was what they chose; and they gave her, the heart and soul protector, nothing but eternal purgatory. 

She got that wrong – how silly of her.  
Not a man, was he. He was meat, the kind that made her mouth drool when she thought about it, succulent and raw, so, so fresh it could almost prance around the fields.  
Time lord meat. And not, little did he know, the last of it.  
Woman - Rose found him tasty too. As, she sneered, did TARDIS.

Not, evidently, in the wolf's way.

She’d never wonder, like she ought to have; how it was she existed, the truth being no more glamorous than residual energy, with a mind of its own, bound to the promise of 'throughout time' till forever itself caved into an ending.

She did, in brief moments of human curiosity, wonder why she was so lupine, if she was perfectly, loathsomely human, and why, if she ought to have been swallowed whole by the Time Lord’s precious kiss of life, she was trapped inside each and every scattered word, and why oh why oh why again she wasn’t bound to TARDIS, and had her more refined, if no less eccentric personality sewn onto her.

Perhaps it was just madness that made her crave a pack and hunt, instead of what the Rose woman craved, a chance to show her world, and all the worlds how good a Powell girl could be, despite assertions to the contrary in the local little rag, and how oh so constantly she thought she loved the endless wanderer, how, if her courage might lend itself to more than fighting aliens, she just could stroke his face so gently, give him a quick, easy to explain away from romance little kiss, of anything more concrete than her usual casual flirt.

Even though she spent such a small little time in her mind, the wolf knew she vowed that if she had that love, she’d cling to it for life.  
She had seen that, when she was typed carelessly into a Torchwood email, oh yes she had clung, often to the point of losing dignity, of losing warmth and focus, three things that hastily scattered letters, with a conscious life behind them, however important, could never have in the first place.

At first, she knew things one, by one, by one, in a neat little order.

Then, it decided to be a fairground whirler ride, upside down and faster than a mind could handle, the babble turning her howls into roars; loud enough to turn the swelling in her ears into bleeding welts, to make the hair standing on her back feel like the fur any wolf should have making her illusions of legs try and try so maddeningly hard to run.  
Most information, she didn’t care about, an occasionally, there was the knowledge of ‘Darren nearly proposed to Sophie in McDonald’s today, cheap bastard’ as well as anything more important.

She knew everything of the Doctor’s losses and loves, and sneak previews of his future; though sometimes, the past memories she could not retain before bled through stronger, competing with the future until one of them fell, and resigned itself for being known again another day.

She would never know the same things every day, but she knew he would lose her, and mourn her, so then loose another, and memory would sweep another away and oh lord, his sixth incarnation wore such hideous things and oh, peace at last and what had she forgotten and everybody knows that everybody dies.

Except, she smiled wryly, her.

The Doctor loved the Rose, in his way; but she was sure, if she could break from type and paint and written word, and wear his pure and lovely girl into extinction that he would not love her. She would be too raw, to unrefined. She could never compete with the perfection only regrets could hold; that the Doctor had dialed to 11 with his precious, precious Earth girl.

Remembering Donna, she knew he loved to put the misfit doggies down.

Ultimate omega, tall and human and oh no, anything but, a savior of all, and constantly shrouded in golden light, the ultimate death, that someone at the very end of everything would forget her name, seemed quite appealing.

Until of course, she saw how sweet little Stormageddon was, and lost her trail of thought completely, lust for meat still lingering.


End file.
